❀.ೃ࿔* Getting out of bed is no easy task with Heian!Sukuna
˚ . ✧ ˚ . ✧ ˚ .
Your eyes gently flutter open to view the dimly lit room that you and your husband share. The sun gently shines into the room through the partially cracked screen leading outside. You make a feeble attempt to stir before you realize you're trapped under the weight of several heavy arms. "Tch, every morning." You do your best to turn your head and look back at your husband who's still sound asleep behind you. "Gods give me strength."
You decide to asses how exactly you're trapped before attempting to escape. You find that theres two arms over top of you, one at your hip and the other on your midsection, both with an iron grip. Another arm is underneath your side relatively out of the way. The final arm is below your head providing a sturdy but comfortable pillow. Now that you know where all his arms are you begin trying to break free.
Gently, you lift the first arm off your hip. Surprisingly, it moves with no resistance. You move on to the second arm. Again, you're met with no push back. Just as you're about to drop the arm, you're yanked backwards forcefully as he rolls to lay on his back with you on top. You let out a shriek of surprise before groaning at the realization you've been caught. "Trying to leave already, little wife?"
You lie back in your new position with your back flat against his chest. "No, I was simply repositioning your arms." You lie and he knows it. "Is that so?" He asks against your ear. "How's this for a new position?" He tightens his grasp for just a moment but long enough to squeeze the air out of you. "It's-" You pause to regain your breath. "-fine." "Then you should have no problem going back to sleep."
"I don't." You quickly reply. "Good." He matches you. "Perfect." He hears the sarcasm in your voice but doesn't comment on it. You lie there for a few minutes, long enough for you to think you feel his breathing even out again. Then, you start to slowly slip off of him. Little by little until you're beside him on your stomach. Quietly, you scoot yourself over to the edge of the bed. Soon you make it far enough to stick a leg out from the covers.
With as much carefulness as you can muster at this point you lightly place your foot on the ground. The second you do, you feel the weight of what seems like a boulder come down on your back. "Going somewhere?" His words are teasing against your back as you struggle under him. "Ryo-" You breathe in as deeply as you can. "Please." He lets up at your stuttering.
You feel majority of the weight come off but he leaves enough to keep you stuck in place. "I just want to make myself some tea! I'll come back!" You tell him after finally regaining the ability to speak in proper sentences. "Uraume can do such menial tasks, you shall remain with me." You scoff at his reply. "Do you see Uraume here? No. Even if I had them do it I would have to get out of bed to tell them. At that point I may as well do it myself!"
"Must you have an answer for everything I say?" He asks in an attempt to change the subject. "Yes." You laugh a little. "If I didn't you'd grow bored of me." This makes him laugh. "Growing bored with you would be like breathing without oxygen. Impossible." He lays his head down on your back, careful not to put too much weight on you. The two of you lay there in silence for a bit.
"Ryomen?" You call out gently. He grunts in response. "May I please go make some tea?" He lets out a deep, long breath. "I suppose. Begrudgingly, he rolls off of you. You hop out of bed but not before placing a sweet kiss to your husband's cheek. "Thank you, Ryo. I'll be back before you can begin to miss me." He watches as you leave, knowing if you're gone longer than he deems acceptable he'll drag himself out of bed to find you and bring you back to lie in his arms once more.
A/n: Took me way to long to get this out of the drafts but at least I got it out
Heian!Sukuna loves you and he’s the last to let others dictate how he shows it. (fluff)
Half a year he’s been gone.
Dust has settled on the shelves, the big bed in the main bedroom empty and abandoned.
You eat in your room, sleep in your room, sit in your room and live and breathe in your room.
Outside, through the thin paper walls, you can hear the birds whistle, hear the wind sing as it rustles the leaves of your great maple tree. Not that it matters when he’s not here. Not that any of it matters.
The flowers have wilted and dried, no longer any water in the vase, your hair unkempt, your dresses wrinkled.
You’ve shooed all the staff away, linger in loneliness.
Tonight is one of the softer evenings. The servants have lit the lanterns and candles, soft light blurring your surroundings with dancing shadows.
You sit on the veranda and listen to the estate around you. The muffled talk of the guards and the servants, the breeze in the trees, the high-pitched screeches of the bats that flutter through the gardens.
Then, a shout.
If your ears could twitch, they would.
You know the sound of his name, know the syllables that fall from everyone’s lips, like a wave, a chorus, a prayer — his name travels to you and you’re on your feet before your closest companions ever get to you.
Barefoot you run along the pathways, wooden planks and stone and grass, the fabric of your gown tangling in bushes and unattended flowers. You’ve neglected your garden, your green little paradise because it meant nothing when the man you love wasn’t close.
Now he is, tho. Now he is just outside the castle walls, or already inside of them. He’s there, travel-worn and weary, he’s there and you’ll be whole again. You’ll be held in his strong arms, kissed by his lips, taste the life and the blood and the power on his tongue. You’ll listen to his strong heart that beats for and with you.
You trip when rounding a corner, almost fall and catch yourself with a little yelp before you’re back on the main road towards the stables, the front gate. Towards the long winding road that stretches into the distance and vanishes on the horizon. The same horizon he turned smaller and smaller and vanished all those nights ago.
Gathered servants and guards part for you and then, there he is - Sukuna, the two faced demon of Japan, the King of Curses, your Beloved.
He towers over his retinue, hair pale from the dirt of the road, a bandage on his left upper arm, eyes roaming until they find you. You.
Sukuna’s running towards you long before you’ve managed to gather your robes. He’s there to lift you in his arms before you’ve managed to make any distance.
Like sweat he smells, like the road and the steel of his weapons, like blood and death and endless power.
You weight nothing in his arms as he spins you around, as his hands hold you beneath your armpits, ribs held together by nothing but him, his other hands on your waist. Even now, when the world is nothing but swirls of night sky and fire and him, he holds you close.
Your own arms are around his neck, so bulky and wide, sticky where his skin is exposed, you pull yourself closer to pepper him in kisses. Catch the corner of his mouth, his nose, feel breathless and light, giggling against his skin.
Whatever weighted you down is lifted with his touch, his presence.
You do not notice when he sets you down, when his chest is pressed against yours. On your tiptoes you have to stand, his hands holding your face, cradling you, gently angling you up and he’s the sun, he’s the light. He’s bright and endless and yours and he’s right here, smiling down on you.
He’s turned tan, dark lines of ink a bit less prominent where the sun has darkened his skin. His grin is as wide as always, his laughter full and honest, meant for you and only you.
Both of you have always been like this. Unapologetic and disgustingly in love.
Oshidori fūfu is what you hear them call the two of you, close like two mandarin ducks, two love birds, always together. You’ve tried to make a home for the birds in your garden but the pond is too small and they always fly away.
Then again, he’s your own mandarin duck, colorful and vivid, unforgettable in every way.
To stifle the laughter that bubbles in your chest is a fruitless endeavor. His fingers tighten around you and you close your eyes, smell him, feel him — exist only with him.
Sweet nothings he tells you, calls you his, Beloved. Loud enough for everyone you hear. His laughter booms across the courtyard when he wipes your tears away. Happy tears, a grin so wide it burns in your cheeks.
You bask in his attention, his warmth and his love and when he carries you off into your untouched chambers, you know you’ll hold him as close as you can, squeeze his body until he acts like he’s unable to breathe and you will laugh and he will laugh with you.
Whole, finally. Together, once again.
a/n: my girlie @beaniesayshi hit a milestone and I'm so proud and happy for her and just had to crank out this little piece as celebration. So proud of you, babe! <3
The steady creak of the king size bed is the only sound to be heard from within the emperors chambers. Save for the frustrated breaths and groans of the aggravated, pink haired monster of a man. Sukuna had made you mad, annoyed you beyond belief earlier this morning, and the steady simmer of your irritation had yet to calm down.
As the lawfully wedded wife of the most sinister, unholy ruler the region had ever seen, you had three main obligations. Love him, serve him, and give him an heir. Now, obviously, with your wild temperament and strong opinions, Sukuna had known you wouldn’t be an easy nut to crack. He had long since given up on the idea of making you subject to him.
He had made the grave mistake of reminding you– his dearest, stubborn wife who had a reputation of being incredibly obstinate, iron willed at times– that the deadline for the “production of an heir” was approaching. That was a grave mistake, a very terrible blunder on his part.
“Production of an heir? What kind of crap is that! A child is born from love and is made when a child is made!” You completely lost it in the midst of breakfast, waving your hands and gesturing furiously from across the table at the ridiculous, witless man in front of you. The rest of the day you had spent in a similar manner, and he had to face the cold shoulder presented to him. If you were any other woman, Sukuna would have severed your pretty little head from your shoulders immediately, and yet here you were, alive and kicking. Kicking furiously.
But, you still had duties to attend to, one of those being the silly, stupid production of an heir. And so to the bed you retreated when your husband finally came home from the slaughter of yet another village. Typically, when he came home with his clothing drenched in blood, he’d always hear you mutter a grumpy little “You reek of blood.” as you lounged in the bed of expensive linen and silky pillows, but not tonight.
The pillows were warm, uncomfortable against Sukuna's forearms as he breathed against the nape of your neck. You had yet to make a single noise, his ego was hurting. How could you, his wife, completely ignore his cock ploughing into you? Even as his two lower arms collected your wrists and your hair, you made no audible sign of enjoyment.
“C’mon sweetheart.. ‘said i was sorry already, hm?” he tries, hot breath against the back of your neck, lips inching down to ghost over the raised skin. But still, you don't budge, keeping your face turned away even as little puffs of air escape your mouth. He frowned, clicking his tongue before two of his large, rough hands grabbed your shoulders, turning you around.
“Y’think it’s funny?” he grunts, pink hair a mess on his head as he grabbed at the plush of your thighs, hoisting your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders, “Ignoring me after i’ve been away all fucking day, huh? Think you can last?” and there is that annoying smirk plastered on his lips, he knows you’re not gonna be able to hold out much longer. And he’s so stupidly right. As soon as you open your mouth to tell him off, he’s on you, lips crashing into yours as he pushes your legs toward your chest as far as they’ll go. He doesn’t pull away, sliding back into that familiarly warm heat with a ragged exhale against your lips. “Theeere we go,” he hums “now she’s acceptin’ me,” he grins, sharp teeth glinting in the light from the windows.
He’s got you in the meanest mating press, all four eyes staring down at you as he all but rams into you. Your muscles burn at the mean angle he’s got you folded in, heavy hips meeting your ass each time his thick tip bumps into that gummy spot inside you, making it damn hard to ignore him. You attempt to hide your face behind your hands, only for two of his much larger ones to enclose them, pinning them by your sides.
“Talk t’me sweetheart, watcha want?” Sukuna whispers, almost tauntingly as he sees you struggling against the pleasure,. “Wan’me to apologise again?” he purrs, leaning in to place a few kisses to your heated neck, “‘m sorry, yeah? Jus’ relax f’me, let me take care of you.” and that’s all it takes for the last of your resolve to crumble, lips parting to finally let out those angelic, soft whines and moans he’s been so unfairly deprived of. He drinks them up, grin growing wider again as he adjusts his grip on your thighs and wrists, pulling all the way out before slamming back into you.
“Mm, theeere she is.”
notes: omgomgomggg i haven't written anything since january 2024?? My comeback has been long overdue, but i'm also super rusty since i haven't been practicing my written english at all... Maybe i'll get back into writing, i have a few other jjk smuts and angsts in my drafts that i never got around to posting, amongst other fandoms.. Happy Sukuna Sunday though!
This is just he begining Sukuna x reader
later down the line this will become sukuna x reader x geto x gojo
Words - 4,600
Demeanor: Clinical, detached, and strictly professional (on the surface). ❄️
Hybrid au
So far Sukuna - dragon serpent hybrid
The fluorescent lights of the Higher Ups’ briefing room hummed with a clinical, soul-sucking frequency. You stood at the center of the polished wood floor, your lab coat feeling like a shroud. Behind the traditional paper screens, the silhouettes of the elders sat like jagged mountain peaks imposing, cold, and utterly indifferent to your survival.
"Project 0-Ryomen," the central voice grated, the sound like dry husks rubbing together. "The Hybrid. A pinnacle of biological and cursed evolution. And, as of now, your sole responsibility."
A file slid across the table. You didn't open it; you already knew the rumors. You knew about the three predecessors, senior biologists, experts in their fields whose bodies had been recovered in states that defied medical categorization. One had been desiccated as if drained by a predator; another had been found with their internal organs rearranged like a macabre puzzle.
"Three others have failed to... provide an adequate evaluation," the voice continued. "They lacked the temperament. They were too loud. Too fragile.."
"There are no guards in the containment suite," you noted, your voice remarkably steady despite the cold sweat prickling your spine.
"Guards are a provocation," a second shadow hissed. "Sukuna does not tolerate 'lesser' threats. He views them as insects to be crushed. You, however, are a scientist. You are a fly on the wall. You will enter the suite alone. You will observe. You will evaluate. You will survive or you will be replaced."
The walk to the high-security wing felt like a descent into an abyss. When the final titanium door hissed open, the air changed. It wasn't just cold; it was heavy. It felt coiling, like a physical weight settling onto your shoulders, constricting your lungs.
You stepped inside, and the door sealed behind you with a final, echoing thud.
The First Evaluation
He doesn’t sit like a captive. He sits at the center of the cell, legs folded, a simple gray shift barely concealing the veins of obsidian scales climbing his collarbone. The room is supposed to strip him of dignity, but he wears the sterile emptiness like a robe. He looks less like an inmate and more like a king, bored by the ceremony of his own court.
"You’re new," he says. His voice is deep, smooth, and carries that haunting, double-layered echo that vibrates in the marrow of your bones. "The last one was... brittle. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking when I looked at him."
You don't let your hands shake. You click your pen, your white lab coat a stark barrier between your humanity and his divinity.
“ I’ve been assigned to evaluate your cognitive and biological stability, Subject 01."
Sukuna’s head tilts a slow, predatory serpent-like glide of his neck. His slit pupils are a faint, burning crimson today, glowing against the sterile white of the cell.
"Subject," he repeats, a faint smirk pulling at his lips to reveal a flash of a forked tongue. "A brave word for a little bird in a cage made of glass. Do you think those walls protect you? Or do they just keep the rest of the world from seeing what I’m going to do to you?"
You ignore the bait, focusing on your tablet. "Your vitals show a heat spike. Are the scales along your ribs sensitive to the ambient temperature?"
You step closer to the glass, peering at the way the light catches the dragon-like patterns on his skin. They shimmer like oil on water. Suddenly, Sukuna is there. He doesn't step; he glides across the room in a blur of motion, appearing directly in front of the glass.
The air in the booth feels suddenly heavy, coiling around your throat like a physical weight. It’s his aura—a predatory constriction that makes your lungs feel half-empty.
"Why don't you come inside and check for yourself, Scientist?" he murmurs. His hand presses against the glass. His fingernails are slightly elongated, dark and sharp, tapping against the reinforced surface with a rhythmic, hypnotic clack.
At this distance, the light shifts. You see them the phantom eyes flickering beneath his primary pair, four burning points of light that promise a violence the human mind can't comprehend. Shadowed horn nubs seem to catch the overhead lights, casting crown-like silhouettes on the wall behind him.
"I'm here to record data, not satisfy your boredom," you say, though your pulse is a frantic drum against your ribs.
"Data," Sukuna huffs, a faint heat distortion rippling the air around his body, making the space between you look like a desert mirage. "You want to know if I'm a dragon or a snake. If I'm a god or a beast."
He leans in closer, his breath fogging the glass, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels like a physical touch.
"You're looking for answers in a ledger," he whispers, the double-echo of his voice sounding right in your ear despite the barrier. "But you’ll find them in the dirt. When the Higher-Ups realize they didn't build a cage... they built an altar. And they’ve finally brought me a priestess worth keeping."
You take a step back, the coiling weight of his aura finally forcing a gasp from your lips. He watches you with a dark, satisfied amusement, his extra eyes flickering out of existence as he settles back into his controlled, serpent-like grace.
"Go on," he gestures with a clawed hand toward the door. "File your report. Tell them I’m stable."
He turns his back to you, but you see the way the scales on his wrists shimmer, a warning of the power leaking through the cracks.
You find out cameras don’t like him.
The footage should have been routine.
You sit alone in the observation booth hours after your shift, the glow of the monitor washing everything in sterile blue. Your stylus taps lightly against your tablet as the recording plays back: Subject 01, seated, still, composed.
Too composed.
You slow the footage.
Sukuna lifts his head.
Even through a recording, the moment his gaze aligns with the camera, something… slips.
The image distorts.
Not a glitch no pixelation, no signal loss. It’s subtler than that. Like the system itself doesn’t know how to hold him. His outline blurs at the edges, light bending wrong around his form.
You pause. Zoom in.
His face sharpens and for a single frame four eyes stare back.
Not flickering. Not implied.
Present.
Your breath catches.
You scrub backward.
Play.
Two eyes.
Again.
Pause.
Four.
You sit back slowly, the stylus slipping from your fingers and clattering against the desk.
“…Wooh.”
The audio track crackles.
You hadn’t touched it.
Sukuna’s voice bleeds through the speakers low, layered, wrong.
“You’re looking too closely.”
The timestamp doesn’t match the moment on screen.
You shut the monitor off.
But for a second longer than it should, his silhouette remains burned into the black.
The next day.
The fluorescent hum of the observation room is the only sound as you finish the entry. The report is simply designed to be a shield of bureaucracy between you and the thing in the tank. You keep it that way on purpose.
“Subject remains stable. No escalation in hostile output. Continued observation recommended.”
The words are clinical. Detached. Safe. They ground you in the reality of the facility, far from the unsettling implications of Subject 01’s existence. Your pen moves steadily across the page, the scratch of ink on paper a familiar, comforting rhythm.
Then—it stops.
The air in the room suddenly feels too thick to breathe. Your chest tightens, a cold band of pressure squeezing your lungs. A sharp, disorienting skip jolts through you, a physical glitch that makes the world tilt. Your heart stutters once… twice… a frantic, uneven beat that echoes in your ears.
And then it resumes.
But it isn't the same. The frantic pace is gone, replaced by something slower. Heavier. Each beat lands like a measured, tectonic knock against your ribs, deliberate, powerful, and utterly unfamiliar. It’s a rhythm that doesn't belong to a human body.
You press your palm flat against your sternum, your fingers trembling. Your pulse is a slow, rhythmic thrumming that vibrates through your entire frame.
“…What?”
The word is a ghost of a sound in the empty room. You look toward the reinforced observation glass, though you can see nothing but your own pale reflection. Beyond those walls, past the layers of lead and the humming dampening fields, something shifts.
You don’t see it. You feel it. It’s a coiling awareness, vast and ancient, like a leviathan turning in its sleep deep beneath the ocean. It’s a presence that fills the gaps in your own consciousness, a silent weight pressing against the back of your mind.
You drop your hand, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. The rhythm continues. It’s steady. It’s certain.
But it’s not yours. Not entirely.
Hours later, the silence of the facility feels predatory. You sit before the digital logs, your eyes burning from the blue light of the monitor. When you reach the data for the final hour of your shift, your throat goes dry, the metallic taste of fear pooling under your tongue.
At 21:43—the exact moment your heart skipped—Subject 01’s vitals changed.
The chaotic, high-frequency spikes of its resting state vanished instantly. The heart rate adjusted. The pattern altered. On the screen, the green line of the subject’s pulse moves in a slow, heavy arc.
It is perfectly aligned… with yours.
The sterile white of the observation booth has begun to feel like a vacuum after that day. For fourteen days after, the data has been perfect unnervingly so. Sukuna has been a model of predatory stillness, his vitals flatlining into a hypnotic, rhythmic pulse that mimics a hibernating serpent.
Until the hunger strike began.
It started small. A tray of high-protein raw lipids left untouched. Then, the specialized nutrient infusions you developed specifically for his hybrid physiology were found shattered against the reinforced far wall. Now, it’s been forty-eight hours.
You stand at the glass, your tablet reflecting the faint, flickering crimson glow of his eyes in the darkened cell. Sukuna hasn't moved from the center of the room. He looks thinner, the scale-like patterns along his collarbone and ribs standing out in sharp, obsidian relief against his skin. They don't just shimmer anymore; they seem to pulse with a dull, agitated heat.
The air in the booth is thick with the smell of parched earth the telltale sign of his power leaking. The heat distortion around him is so intense that the back wall of the cell looks like it’s melting.
"Subject 01," you say, your voice cracking slightly through the intercom. "Your caloric intake is at zero. If this continues, I will be forced to authorize a sedative and a gastric tube. Don't make me do that."
Sukuna doesn't look up. His head stays bowed, the shadowed outlines of his horns casting long, jagged silhouettes against the floor.
"Sedatives," he echoes. The double-layered vibration in his voice is heavier now, more guttural. "You think your chemicals can quiet a hunger like this, Scientist?"
Suddenly, he moves. It isn't a walk; it’s that terrifying, gliding serpent-motion. He is at the glass in a heartbeat, his face pressed so close his slit pupils are all you can see. His phantom eyes aren't just flickering anymore they are locked open, four burning embers of irritation.
"I'm not eating because the fuel you provide tastes like ash," he hisses. He tilts his head, a flash of his forked tongue darting out to taste the recycled air near the ventilation grate. "A dragon doesn't thrive on pellets and paste. A dragon needs life."
He raises a hand, his elongated fingernails scraping against the glass with a sound like a violin string snapping. The heat radiating from the other side of the barrier is starting to bake the air in your booth.
"You're failing your evaluation," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, coiling register that makes your skin break out in goosebumps. "You sit there with your ledgers and your white coat, watching me starve. But you aren't looking at the right data point."
He leans in, his breath fogging the glass despite the cooling systems.
"Look at my pulse. Look at the way the scales on my wrists are turning black. I’m not dying. I’m shedding."
Your heart skips. A hybrid shedding cycle is undocumented territory it’s a period of extreme physical transition and heightened aggression.
"If you want me to eat," Sukuna says, his gaze dropping to the pulse point in your neck, his eyes glowing with a predatory gold, "stop sending the guards. Stop sending the machines. Come in here yourself. Let me see the color of your blood, and maybe I’ll find an appetite for something else."
He pulls back, his claws leaving faint, white scratches on the "unbreakable" glass. He’s testing you.
The day After.
The suggestion hung in the sterile air of the observation booth, a professional wedge driven between your safety and his predatory boredom.
You didn't step closer to the glass. You clicked your pen, your eyes fixed firmly on the digital readouts of your tablet, refusing to let him see the sudden spike in your own heart rate.
"If it’s biological simulation you require, I will file a request for live prey," you said, your voice a cool, clinical shield. "The department can source non-human apex predators for environmental enrichment. But let me be absolutely clear, Subject 01. Under no circumstances will I be entering your cell. My observations will remain strictly ocular and remote."
Through the reinforced glass, Sukuna went eerily still. The heat distortion around his body rippled, making his broad shoulders look massive, the scales along his collarbone shimmering like dark obsidian. He tilted his head, his neck snapping into that smooth, fluid serpent glide.
"Prey," Sukuna murmured, his voice layering with that dark, vibrating double-echo. "You’re going to send me beasts in cages. You think watching a wolf bleed will satisfy a dragon?"
He stepped closer to the glass, his crimson slit pupils dilating until they almost swallowed the gold irises. A tiny, quick flash of his forked tongue tasted the air vents.
"You’re a coward, Scientist," he hissed, his elongated fingernails tapping a slow, rhythmic beat against the glass. Click. Click. Click. "You want to study the monster, but you don't want to get your hands dirty. Fine. Send your offerings. I’ll see if their bones make better music than your voice."
The response from the Board of Directors came back faster than you expected. In the cold, high-rise boardroom of the facility, the executives didn't see a captive animal; they saw a weapon system that needed calibration.
When you opened the digital brief, your stomach dropped.
Directive 04-B: Enrichment and Combat Calibration
Phase 1: Standard canine/feline apex predators (Leopards, Timber Wolves).
Note: This will serve as a double-blind evaluation. We are testing the Subject's metabolic absorption rates and his combat ceiling. Let him hunt. Increase the threat metrics weekly.
They didn't just want to feed him. They wanted to test him. They wanted to see if the hybrid could shred a three-hundred-pound grizzly bear without breaking a sweat. They were turning your sterile research facility into a blood-sport arena.
The First Drop
Forty-eight hours later, the automated hydraulic lift in the floor of Sukuna’s cell hissed open.
From your observation booth, you watched as a massive, starved timber wolf was pushed up into the enclosure. The animal was terrified. Its hackles were raised, its tail tucked between its legs as it pressed its back against the white wall, whimpering at the sheer, suffocating aura coiling in the room.
Sukuna didn't move from his seated position in the center of the room. He didn't even stand up.
He just slowly opened his primary eyes. The faint, crimson glow of his pupils flared, and the phantom eyes beneath them flickered to life, four burning points of absolute malice. The shadowed nubs of his horns seemed to grow heavy, bending the light around his skull.
The wolf didn't even growl. It let out a single, broken whine and collapsed to the floor, paralyzed by the sheer, crushing weight of Sukuna’s predatory presence.
Sukuna slowly stood up, his movements fluid, gliding toward the shaking animal. He looked up at your observation glass, a slow, dark smirk spreading across his face as his sharp fingernails caught the overhead fluorescent lights.
"A wolf," Sukuna murmured, his voice echoing through the intercom. "How generous of your masters, Scientist. Shall we see how long it takes for it to stop breathing?"
He didn't look at the beast. He kept his glowing, four-eyed gaze fixed directly on you as he reached down, his elongated claws hovering over the wolf's throat.
Sukuna doesn’t strike with the frantic energy of a predator; he moves with the bored precision of a butcher. His gaze never wavers from the glass, pinning you to your seat even as his hand descends.
With a flick of his wrist a movement so casual it looks like he’s dusting off a sleeve the air itself seems to sharpen.
There is no sound of a struggle, only the wet, heavy thud of something solid hitting the floor.
The wolf’s head doesn't just fall; it is erased from its shoulders by a Dismantle so clean the beast doesn't even have time to whimper. Blood paints the white floor, spatters Sukuna’s legs. He doesn’t flinch; he doesn’t even look down at the carcass as the copper stink floods the observation booth.
And then the link hits you.
It’s not just empathy, not just shock. It’s euphoria, sick and sharp. Your heart hammers once, twice, then falls into sync with his—a heavy, predatory rhythm that shouldn’t belong to you. You feel the ghost of blood on your skin, the heat of the kill tingling in your fingertips.
Sukuna’s smile widens. He knows. He lifts a blood-slicked hand, drags a claw across his throat—a lazy, mocking gesture.
“Did you feel that, Scientist?” His voice is a purr, thick and wrong, vibrating in your bones. “Tell me… does your heart still beat for yourself? Or is it mine now?”
The facility at night is a tomb of concrete and humming wires, but for you, the silence is a lie.
In the darkness of your living quarters, the link isn't just a medical anomaly on a screen; it’s a tether. It feels like a cold, invisible wire threaded through your sternum, pulled taut across the miles of reinforced steel that separate you from his cell.
Inside Containment Unit 01, Sukuna does not sleep. He doesn't need to. He sits cross-legged in the center of the dark chamber, his four eyes closed, yet he is more "awake" than any human. Through the link, he is mapping you.
You remember the first night, the link, the unsettling feeling, the pain.
Sukuna tilts his head back in the dark, a low, guttural chuckle vibrating in his throat. In your room, miles away, your own throat vibrates with the exact same frequency. You gasp, clutching your neck, but the sound that comes out of your mouth carries the faint, ghostly rasp of his voice.
He touches the cursed marks on his arms, tracing the ink with a sharp nail. In your bed, you feel a searing heat crawl across your own skin, as if an invisible pen is drawing invisible lines over your flesh.
He is marking you from the inside out.
Through the intercom which should be powered down for the night a whisper curls into your ear, though the speakers remain dead. It’s the link translating his thoughts directly into your auditory nerve.
"Don't bother closing your eyes, Scientist," he murmurs, his amusement a physical pressure against your ribs. "I can see exactly what you're dreaming of. And I think... I'll make it much, much worse."
He’s playing with you but you won’t let him get to you.
Too bad he already has.
It’s the next day.
It happens fast.
Too fast for protocol.
The guard assigned to Sukuna’s sector has been restless all morning pacing, muttering, letting his nerves slip through the cracks of his professionalism.
You notice it.
Sukuna does too.
“Creepy bastard,” the guard mutters under his breath, just loud enough to carry through the observation speakers.
You look up sharply.
“Officer—maintain—”
He doesn’t finish.
He drops.
Hard.
His knees hit the floor with a sickening crack. His hands fly to his throat, fingers digging in as if trying to tear something invisible away.
He’s still seated in the center of the room, one elbow resting lazily against his knee, chin propped against his hand.
Watching.
The guard’s body convulses, breath strangled into wet, desperate gasps.
“Override medical now!” you snap, already moving.
And then—
It stops.
Just like that.
The guard collapses forward, coughing violently, dragging air back into his lungs like he’s been underwater.
Silence floods the room.
Sukuna’s gaze drifts from the trembling man…
to you.
A faint smile ghosts across his lips.
“Fragile things shouldn’t raise their voices.”
You stare at him.
Not because he hurt the guard.
But because
He didn’t kill him.
Things just keep happening. The next day isn't any better.
You’re careful.
You’ve been careful from the start.
Names are control. Identity is distance. You gave him neither.
“Subject 01,” you begin, not looking up from your tablet, “we’ll proceed with—”
“That’s not what they call you.”
Your pen pauses.
Just for a fraction of a second.
You don’t look up.
“…Clarify.”
Silence stretches.
You can feel it the way his attention narrows, sharpens, settles on you like a blade hovering just above skin.
Then, softly
Too softly
He says your name.
Your full name.
Not the one on your file.
The one you haven’t used in years.
The one no one here knows.
Your grip tightens around the pen.
You keep your expression neutral. Controlled.
Professional.
But your handwriting doesn’t resume.
Sukuna exhales, amused.
“There it is.”
You finally look up.
His eyes are on you steady, knowing, patient.
Not guessing.
Not testing.
Certain.
As if things couldn’t get worse.
You don’t remember falling asleep. One second you’re at your desk, the hum of the facility steady and grounding.
The next—
You’re inside the containment room.
No glass.
No barrier.
Just white walls and silence that feels too complete.
Your breath catches.
Slowly, carefully, you turn—
Empty.
He’s not there.
Your pulse spikes.
A presence.
Behind you.
Close.
Too close.
“So this is where you hide your spine.”
Your body goes rigid.
You turn—
Sukuna stands there, towering, shadows clinging to him like something alive. The faint outline of horns catches the light, his eyes burning too bright in the sterile room. You step back instinctively. There’s nowhere to go. He steps forward.
Not rushed.
Not aggressive.
“You’re much quieter in here.”
His gaze drags over you, not like a man looking at a person, like something assessing ownership.
You open your mouth—
And wake up.
Back in your chair.
Your tablet is still in your hand. The lights haven’t changed. Nothing has moved.
You suck in a breath, sharp and unsteady.
“…Just a dream.”
You check the monitors anyway.
Sukuna is exactly where he should be.
Seated.
Still.
But—
He’s smiling.
The invitation to the "High Council" chambers was less a request and more an administrative summons. The room was subterranean, chilled to a precise 18°C, and smelled of ozone and expensive cologne. The three directors sat behind a curved obsidian desk, their faces obscured by the harsh downward glow of the recessed lighting.
The Phase 1 and 2 biological culls have been... informative. Subject 01 has shown a 98% efficiency rate in neutralising apex predators. His metabolic absorption of raw essence is stabilizing. However, his psychological metrics are troubling."
You opened the file. The pages were filled with red-inked notations of Sukuna’s behavior during the hunts: Non-compliant. Mocking. Targeted aggression toward observation glass.
"He’s a hybrid of two of the most territorial archetypes in existence—Serpent and Dragon," another director added, leaning into the light. "He doesn't view this facility as a prison. He views it as his hoard. And he views you as a curiosity, not an authority."
You looked down at the detailed requirements for the upcoming "Obedience Test," and the blood drained from your face. You just hope he listens. You don’t want to be degraded in front of him, he’ll probably enjoy it too.
It’s time now.
They want proof.
They always do.
“Give him a command,” one of the higher-ups says from behind the glass, arms crossed, voice tight with forced authority. “We need to establish baseline obedience.”
You don’t respond immediately. You know what they’re asking. You also know what it means if it works.
He lowers himself to the ground, folding into a seated position with perfect ease.
No resistance.
No hesitation.
Obedient.
A breath of relief ripples through the observation room behind you.
You don’t feel it.
Because Sukuna hasn’t looked away from you.
Not once.
“See?” he murmurs, voice low, pleased. “I can behave…”
His head tilts slightly.
Eyes narrowing, not in defiance
In interest.
“…when I’m given a reason.”
And suddenly, it’s very clear—
He didn’t listen to them.
The moment the test ends, the council’s interest evaporates. The lead director stands, straightens his suit with a sharp tug, and avoids your eyes. One by one, the elders rise from their seats behind the glass, their faces carved into masks of professional satisfaction and clinical detachment.
“Well, that will suffice,” the central voice says, already sliding papers into a briefcase. “We have what we need for now. Document the results and maintain protocol.”
You nod, barely trusting your own voice. Your hands are cold, the clipboard slick where your palm rests.
The doors hiss open. Footsteps echo heels on marble, the shuffle of expensive shoes on polished floors. The board members filter out in a line, whispering to each other in clipped, coded tones that mean nothing to you and everything to the fate of what’s locked just feet away.
The last one pauses by the door, gaze flicking between you and the observation glass. A calculated, empty smile. “Remember, Doctor: containment is a matter of willpower as much as engineering. Don’t let him feel your fear.”
The door swings shut behind them, sealing you inside the booth with the hum of ventilation and the silent weight of Sukuna’s attention.
Alone again, you exhale long, shaky trying to convince yourself that you’re still in control.
That’s when the lights begin to flicker.
Then everything dies.
Alarms split the silence, shrill and merciless. Red emergency lights flare, painting the corridor in violent warning. Your monitor flashes: Barrier integrity: 30%.
Panic punches cold through your gut.
Inside the cell—
Sukuna rises, as if he’s been waiting for this precise moment. He stands with the kind of patience that makes you realize the locks, the walls, the security systems—all of it—was never for him.
Every instinct shrieks: Run. Move. Survive.
You don’t move. You can’t. You’re rooted in place, heart hammering, every nerve on fire.
He approaches the glass.
Each step is unhurried. Deliberate. He’s in no rush. The red glow catches on the obsidian scales along his collarbone, makes the shadowed horns look like a crown.
He stops just inches from you.
The pressure hits—suffocating, coiling around your lungs, your ribs, your mind. The air is so thick with his presence you can barely breathe.
He raises a hand.
For a heartbeat, you’re certain: This is it.
He presses his palm flat to the glass, directly over your chest. Over your heart.
He doesn’t strike.
He doesn’t shatter the barrier.
He just holds you there pinned by the weight of his gaze, the certainty in those ancient, inhuman eyes.
“Not yet,” he says soft, final.
In an instant, the lights snap back to white. The alarms choke off, leaving a ringing silence. Barrier integrity returns to normal.
Sukuna lowers his hand, turns, and walks back to the center of the cell. Calm. Untouched. Like nothing happened at all.
Your legs refuse to work. You can’t move.
Because one truth echoes, louder than the alarms, louder than the pounding of your heart:
He could have left.
He chose not to.
Before I leave you here's a little blurb of kind of smut DOn't LOOK
true form!sukuna shows his girlfriend what both his cocks can do :33
Sukuna has always been a very eccentric person, if eccentric is even the right word. But you couldn't help but be surprised when you finally find out about his true form. Dating Sukuna gave it's fair share of surprises but coming home and opening your shared bedroom door to see an extra pair of arms and eyes on your boyfriend..? For sure weird. But the thing that confused you the most wasn't the second mouth on his stomach surprisingly but it was infact the extra imprint on the too tight towel that hung around his waist. Usually it's just one big print, but it doubled..?
"Sukuna?" You mutter softly, your eyebrow quirking up as you stare at your newly evolved boyfriend. He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice, surprise evident on his face. He clicks his tongue before staring you down, waiting- no, expecting for a remark from you.
"You're so fucking hot, what can those double dicks do?" A small smirk appearing on your face, your curiosity and lust getting ahead of your own rationality. Sukuna is obviously caught aback by your words, something different than he was normally used to. But he swiftly recovers, the usual snarky grin returning to his face as he takes a step closer to you, closing the gap between you two with ease.
"Are you sure? I'm not goin' easy on you." He looks down on you easily, his eyes raking each part of your body with intensity that nobody could handle. His hands reaching out to your waist, you take note of how much bigger he had gotten with this new form of his. He had already towered over you before, but now? This was an olympic sport and he set a new and unobtainable record. To that question you quickly nod, setting the snowball rolling.
That's how you ended up in the exact predicament you happen to be in. Your aching wet pussy full of his cock while he begins to line up his identical other cock with your ass. Letting out soft whimpers with each small movement that he makes, his cock was already a struggle to handle, now two? Just the thought made you feel full. Sukuna refused to let you stop looking, one of his four hands sat on your chin, gripping just hard enough to make sure you wouldn't move without hurting you. Two others rested on your hips, holding you still even if you decided to squirm, lastly was the one on his cock, lining you up perfectly to full take all of him.
With a sharp moan and the sound of your ass cheeks hitting his muscular thighs, you were fully taking all of him. He let you take a moment to adjust, watching as your grip on one of his arms tightened and released as a way to cope with the new intrusion. With a soft nod from you, he smirks. Taking your full lower half in both of his way too big hands he turns you, laying you onto your back as he brings your legs to rest on his shoulders.
"Gonna take such good care of you." He whispers softly in your ear before placing a soft kiss just under your lobe. He spares no time in slowly rutting into you, his grunts could be heard if you listened just right. He watched as you lost your breath so quickly, taking so much of him being such a hard task for you made him feel all the more powerful.
"Sure you can take it?" He mutters, a cocky grin as he shoves his own cocks deeper into both of your holes. To his words you aggressively nod, assuring him that you could in-fact take all of him. Even if he had to ignore the obvious sweat dripping from your forehead in such a short time, or the fact that you clenched your fists into the bedsheets with each small movement.
He smirks, looking down at his beautiful girlfriend being so strong for him. "Gonna make sure both your holes remember the shape of both of my cocks." He doesn't even bother to give you a second to register his words before he grabs your waist, his other hands grabbing the headboard before fucking into you with newfound passion. His hips connecting with yours in powerful thrusts, the bed is shaking, the house is most likely shaking as well. The pace was brutal, he was keen on keeping his word. Making sure that his precious girlfriend only was accustomed to him, and him only.
Your moans egged him on further, each time he'd thrust he would stare and study each and every sound you emitted. Studying and listening to which ones he liked the best, or whenever he'd hit a certain part how you'd sound. This man was calculating how to fuck you so well that by the end of this you wouldn't be able to think. His lips come down to greet your neck, leaving soft kisses and bites as he folds you into angles that he just invented. Impossibly getting deeper and deeper into not only your gushing pussy but your now battered asshole. He watched as your hair made a halo around your head, he couldn't help but regret not doing this sooner. Not showing you how good he could make you feel when you first started dating.
"Kunaa.." He hears his name slip from your mouth and something lights up in his soul. He grips onto you tighter and fucks into you deeper, as if he wasn't already deep enough he somehow switches it up. Your whimpers turn into long stringy moans, whining at the top of your lungs as you grow closer and closer to climax. He licks his lips in anticipation, he couldn't wait to see you, to feel you. So he slows it down, focusing on reaching deeper points of you, hitting each spot that he can find that'll make you arch your back.
When you finally orgasm it's harsh, your entire body tenses against his cocks. Squeezing him impossibly tight inside of you, this causes him to let out a groan as you hold him in place. He follows suit, feeling you squeeze so tightly against him he lets out a loud moan before releasing inside of you. It's safe to say, you two didn't get any sleep that night.
im sorry gang i HAVE to make this modern or else i might die.. maybe one day ill do another au <3
requested by @awaketcucumber (i totally was not forced to make this..)
Part of my series, Deadheading - trueform!sukuna x reader
Abandoning the horrid past and moving towards a bright future
Synopsis: How Ryomen Sukuna grew from a weak, frail child into the feared King of Curses. All with a little love, of course.
Description: Heian!era sukuna x reader, yes he will be true form. Childhood friends to lovers, I feel like thats the omly way he will truly love someone.
Word count: 223
MASTERLIST
Note: I'll try to post every 1-2 weeks
Nothing is immune to corruption. Not the plants commonly described as strong, persevering organisms, nor the animals praised as pure, innocent beings, incapable of sin and acting on pure instinct. Especially not the humans, who greed, lust, pride, envy, and wrath. The very humans who do as they wish, neglecting their duties and overindulging. Nevertheless, shadows are but the presence of light. Everyone’s light is different. Some find light in their hobbies, some in others, and some in the beauty of the world.
But for an abandoned child, ostracized for his monstrous form, any source of joy was nothing but a distant dream. For a child whose sides are lined with two arms each, whose face is adorned with double the eyes, and whose abdomen has a horizontal split making way for a maw decorated with rings of serrated fangs, one above and one below, all there is to think about is survival. There is no time to satiate his wants.
But nobody is helpless. The broken can return into their most glorious state.
This was proven true once he met a child as pitiful as he, who, despite her pathetic state, maintains a pure heart, reaching out a helping hand. Only once he’s looking up at her smiling form, waiting for him to join her, does he notice how bright she glows.
Starring: True from! Sukuna in a cabin in the woods...
Synopsis: You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right?
Content Warning: Tonight we are serving True form (two dicks) Sukuna, double penetration, tummy bulges, cunnilingus, kidnapping, marking, slight dubcon, and a soft Sukuna if you squint. reader discretion is advised
“So, remind me again why we’re taking a walk in the woods on Halloween night?” You asked your friend, narrowly avoiding a thorn vine as you pushed past the brush.
“Because, historically speaking, people tend to see it on Halloween!” She explained, holding up her camera, “It’s our best chance of finding evidence of the spider demon.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her optimism.
“I don’t know if “Historically” is the right word to use there,” you grumbled softly as you continued your walk together. Ever since the two of you had started taking that Folklore Studies class for an extra college credit she had become obsessed with the local urban legend: The Spider Demon. To her credit, it was a genuinely interesting topic.
As far back as town hall kept records of, there were sightings of the beast: a giant humanoid man that was covered in ancient markings, with four arms, four eyes, and a giant mouth on his abdomen. Rumor has it, he was the one at fault for all the disappearances that plagued your small town, dragging poor, innocent souls into some far off lair and feasting on their flesh.
The sane people knew the real reason for the disappearances though; most of those kids hopped a train and got the fuck out of that dying town while they still could. You couldn’t say you blamed them. If you didn’t go to school here, one of the cheaper colleges around, you wouldn’t be here either.
Your thoughts came to a halt as the two of you came up on an old stream. You knew it well as the boundary between where it was acceptable to play in the woods, and where was off limits. Everyone in the town had followed this rule. Your great grandparents had this rule engraved in their soul as kids, just as your parents and grandparents had, just as you had. And just as your kids would one day. No one really knew why you weren’t supposed to cross the water, just that you weren’t.
And your best friend was trying to hop across. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” You yelled as you grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She looked at you as if you had just grown two extra heads.
"I'm crossing the stream?" She asked as if you were the insane one here.
"Yeah, I can see that dipshit!" You snapped, "Why the hell would you do that?!"
"To get to the other side?"
"What are you, a chicken?! You know we're not supposed to cross this stream." Your friend dramatically rolled her eyes, making her annoyance clear.
"The only chicken here is you Y/n." She scoffed. "Come on, it's just water. It can't hurt you." She said in a tone meant to mock assurance. It grinded your bones and made you wonder why you were friends to begin with.
"Don't be like that. Everyone in this town has been told since birth not to cross that stream, there has to be a reason why."
"The reason why is probably so little kids don't drown." She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. It made you want to rearrange her teeth. "I'm going to cross the stream and keep the hunt going, are you with me or not Y/n?" She asked.
You took a deep breath. You absolutely were not with her. Every fiber in your being was setting off red flags, you could hear your ancestors screaming at you to turn around, somewhere from the great beyond, both Cain and Abel look at you and say "girl, don't do it."
And yet, you started to jump across the rocks. As annoying as your friend was, she was still your friend, and you couldn't let her go alone. Your ancestors all collectively face palm, your nerves explode, Cain turns to Abel and shakes his head. There's no saving you now. You swore the air temperature dropped by at least three degrees as you made it to the other side of the stream. You cursed softly as you wrapped your jacket tighter around you, and rushed to catch up with your friend.
“See? We crossed the water and we didn’t explode! Some rules are just made to be broken.” She seemed confident in that, but you still weren’t. Something was so…off. Wrong. But you couldn’t figure out what. The moon was still as full as ever, lighting your way as the two of you walked. Your friend seemed fine, as chatty as hell even. And you were physically okay. Leaves crunched under your shoes, and the crickets chirped-
Wait. No they didn’t. “Hey, shush.” You demanded of your friend.
“What!? Why should I-”
“I said Shut. Up.” You snapped, an unfamiliar edge to your voice taking even you by surprise. She shut up, and you struggled to listen to the sounds of the forest. Except, there were no sounds of the forest. No crickets singing, no owls hooting, not even the rustle of a field mouse in the grass. The woods were completely silent, filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing.
“Do you hear that?” You asked your friend.
“I don’t hear anything.” She scoffed.
“Exactly. We need to turn back.”
“What?! No way!” She protested with a stomp of her foot. You were really starting to think that Darwinism would not look kindly upon your friend.
“The woods are completely quiet.” You pointed out, “That doesn’t happen unless it has a reason to be quiet. We’re not welcome here.” You tried to argue. You would have been better off arguing with the moon itself. Your friend just shook her head as she continued to walk.
“The woods are always quiet Y/n, its what makes it so peaceful, or whatever.”
“But not this quiet!” You pleaded as you chased after her, still not willing to let her die out here alone. “Dude, please, we need to go-!”
“Ooo, whats that!” Your “best friend” quickly changed the topic as she pointed out a building off in the distance, running off to check it out. You felt your stomach fall to the floor. Who would build anything out here? You ran to follow her, deciding to just drag her back home if you had to.
“Its a house!” She pointed out with a laugh as the two of you reached the edge of a lawn, “And they even decorated for Halloween, how sweet.” You looked at the house, an old wooden cabin that looked like something a pilgrim would have built back in the 1700s. You were shocked to see lights glowing in the window, indicating the building had electricity. That wasn’t what unnerved you the most though.
That would be the bones littering the yard. Animal and human alike, some looking older than others. All strewn about as if thrown there without any care, or sense of design. They looked more like discarded trash than they did decor, and a morbid part of your brain forced you to ask; do those maybe look a little too real to be made of plastic? You blood felt colder than ice as your throat contracted, an unseen anaconda choking you as your knees threatened to give out.
This place was cursed. “You should go knock.” Your friend smirked.
“I would rather die.” You whispered.
“I’m serious!” She laughed, “Go trick or treating! You’d probably be the first one to do so here.”
“No way, this isn’t right. Why would they “decorate” for Halloween all the way out here? Why are they out here to begin with? It doesn’t make sense, we need to go.”
“Well, I’m not leaving until you go knock on the door.” Your friend shrugged as if she wasn’t signing your death certificate. “These kind people deserve trick or treaters, and I deserve to take a picture of you scared shitless as you knock on the door.” She laughed.
“That’s not funny!” You snapped, your patience growing thinner as your anxiety grew.
“Oh come on Y/n! Don’t be such a bitch, just go knock on the door and then we can go, okay? I promise.”
“...Swear?” You asked softly, at this point willing to do whatever it took to leave these woods and go home.
“Swear.” Your best friend smiled, locking her pinky with yours. Her smile as angelic, enough to trick you into a facade of ease. You took a deep breath as you approached the door, carefully avoiding the skeletons as you walked. Did they looked chewed on? You didn’t want to think too hard about it. You could feel your heart in your throat, the false courage of your friends pinky promise fleeing faster and faster with every step you took closer to this house. It radiated death.
Climbing the creaky stairs was harder than you anticipated, your jittering joints protesting the very act. You reached a trembling fist to the splintering wooden door, knocking as soft as possible. “H-Hello?” You called out, hating the way your voice quivered, “Trick or Treat!” Your entire body tried to collapse in on itself, the only thing keeping you from doing so was the primal instinct to maintain your ability to run should you so need.
You waited a few seconds, then let out a shaking breath as no one came to the door. As you turned back to your friend, you were blinded by the flash of a camera, freezing you in your place. The sounds of her cackle filled you with rage. You really needed you friends.
You rolled your eyes. “There I knocked. Are you happy? Can we please go home no-” your words died in your throat as you heard the door open.
“Trick.” a rough deep voice said, deeply unfamiliar to you. You watched your friends face contort into fear and her jaw unhinged itself into a scream as she scrambled to get away. Though, you weren’t able to hear her panic, the ringing in your ears becoming deafening as you felt your feet fall from underneath you, a python of an arm squeezing your stomach as you were lifted into the air, and into the house.
You tried to grab the door frame as you were dragged into hell, becoming aware of your own screaming ripping through your throat as the frame was ripped from your fingers and the door shut in your face.
“Quite mortal.” The voice said again, and you almost instantly shut up. Something primal in your DNA sequencing knowing better than to piss off this devil. The monster turned you over in his hands, turning you to face him. Your soul left your body. You took in the visage of the beast, your panicking brain struggling to process what was in front of you.
A giant humanoid man, with four arms, four eyes, and a face and chest full of ancient markings. He was holding you too close to properly see it, not to mention the fact that he was wearing a regal robe, but you would bet an unreasonable amount of money he had a sickening smile on his belly. You were in The Spider Demons claws.
And worst of all, he was kinda cute? Like, maybe it was the unshakeable sense of death that rattled your soul and turned your brain into mush, but if he was like- a normal guy with a normal amount of arms and eyes, you would have been smitten! You were kinda smitten now, even if you didn’t want to admit that. God you…really really hoped this whole experience wasn’t awakening something in you. This would be something to unpack in therapy later- if you survived this.
The demon took your chin in a free hand, turning your head as he examined you. You smelled divine. If you had been a sacrifice for him, he would have given whoever picked you out an A++ for finding you, and a bit more leniency for a while. But, he knew you weren’t a sacrifice. The townsfolk had declared him their enemy long ago, and had been facing the consequences ever since. So, that begged the question.
“Tell me, whats a pretty thing like you doing at my doorstep on the most haunted night of the year?” He asked, turning your head to look him in the eye.
“Wishing you were a myth.” You went with the first thing that came to your head and instantly regretted it. That might have been a little too honest for this situation. But, at least he seemed to find humor in it, snickering at your quip.
“Keep wishing then human, I’m all too real.” He chuckled darkly.
“Yeah, I-I see that…Are you going to kill me?” Your voice was shakier than you intended as you asked. You hated it, but the anticipation of what he was going to do was more painful that anything he could have actually done.
“I haven’t decided yet.” He mused as he continued his examination of you. He smiled cruelly as he felt your pulse quicken under his hands. He could smell your fear, and it was intoxicating. Your eyes, blown wide with fear, were stirring something deep down inside of him, and making you far more interesting than any other human he had come across in years.
Or, maybe it had just been a while since he had anyone to fuck. Granted, he had stolen plenty of mortals from your small town, but most of the time they died in the process. Corpses held no interest to him for anything other than food. But you? You were alive and warm, and vulnerable in his claws. That fact alone made the notion of keeping you alive for a little longer far more enticing than killing you just yet.
“Um, anything I could do to help you make that decision?” You asked softly.
“The decision to kill you?” he questioned
“Well, the decision not too!” You quickly clarified, “Dying sounds kinda, well, not fun and with you being like, a real thing that kinda makes me question well everything as far as mythology goes and that makes dying really fucking scary and-”
“You’re rambling mortal.” He sneered in annoyance.
“Right! My bad I just- please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything not to die.” You begged, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you grappled with being forced to face the unknown. You had the beasts attention though, an eyebrow raising at your offer.
“Anything?” He purred, his eyes falling to the swell of your chest and making you greatly regret your word choice. “Anything at all?”
“Anything.” You whispered softly. You reasoned with yourself that this was for your life and definitely not because the thought of getting railed by a blood thirsty demon made you squish your thighs together in anticipation. You for sure didn’t feel a rush of arousal as the thought of something meant to kill you making you cum instead crossed your mind. That didn’t happen, no way, not at all. You weren’t wondering if his dick was as monstrous as he was, or if his markings graced it as well.
“Alright then Human, deal.” He grinned wickedly as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. “I’ll let you live, if you give your body to me first.” You felt your face burn at his proposal. Something felt fundamentally wrong about spreading your legs for a demon. You weren’t religious or anything, but that had to be some sort of sin. But, if it was for your life, surely you could indulge- I MEAN- endure.
“Before I agree, we’re not talking about possession, right?” You had to clarify. He smirked at your words. You were cleaver to ask, it showed a familiarity with the supernatural. Maybe you weren’t as foolish as you first seemed after all.
“Smart girl. But no, we’re not talking about possession.” He confirmed.
“Okay, cool, just checking.” You chuckled nervously. “You got yourself a deal.” His smirk turned into a dark grin as his free hands rushed to your clothes. You panicked, knowing he was going to rip them off and you’d be forced to walk back in the nude. That would have been mortifying.
“Wait wait wait!” You yelped, holding up your arms to stop his hands.
“What?” He growled, annoyance flooding his tone.
“Let me undress myself.” You requested, “Please? I’ll make it worth your while.” He seemed intrigued and amused, setting you on the ground with an almost unnerving gentleness.
“Will you now? Lets see.” He hummed. You nodded, taking a few steps back. You took a deep breath and shrugged your jacket off your shoulders. You had never been particularly good at being sexy, at least not in your opinion. But, The monsters eyes could have convinced you otherwise. The way he watched you undress, as if he was a starving man looking at a thanksgiving feast, or a hungry demon looking at his next meal. It gave you the confidence to put on a proper show, teasing him as you slowly shed your clothes.
“I’m Y/n by the way,” You said as your hands reached to unhook your bra, “You got a name, or is it just spider demon?” He huffed humorlessly at your quip. He never liked that title.
“Ryomen Sukuna,” He said, his eyes setting fire to your skin as you finally dropped your bra for him, “you can call me Sukuna.”
“Noted.” You nodded as you dropped your panties. His lustful grin showed off his incredibly sharp fangs as he dropped his own robe, the only thing covering him. You confirmed the mouth theory, seeing it spread and hungrily panting across his toned abs. Your breath hitched when you saw when he was working with.
His dick- or rather, dicks- looked human enough despite the markings, but they were longer and thicker than anything you had taken before. And again, there were two of them. They stood hard and proud against his stomach, twitching to be inside you. You didn’t know if the buzzing in your hands and legs was from regret, or excitement.
You didn’t have time to figure it out either before you were taken back into the demons arms, this time with less violence and more neediness. He pressed you to his stomach, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and leaving you open to him.
“You’re pretty brave for a human, you know that?” He complimented as a large tongue lolled out of his stomach mouth and against your soaking core. He chuckled darkly as the muscle shoved itself into your weeping cunt, making you gasp at the sudden stretch, “And such a slut too.”
“Hey, this was your idea, not mine.” You reminded him though breathy moans, trying to ground yourself as your hips bucked against his giant mouth. Every movement of the tongue felt like being touch for the first time, a ripple of pleasure coursing though your stomach and legs, and making you wonder there was something supernatural going on to make a demonic act feel so heavenly.
“True,” He agreed, “But you’re the one that's gushing for a monster when I’ve hardly touched you.” he reminded you, watching the way your face contorted with pleasure as you dropped the act of innocence. He didn’t know what was more arousing to him, watching your resolve dissolve, or just how sweet you tasted as you desperately you rode his tongue. “I was going to kill you just a few moments ago, you know that right?” He growled into you ear.
“Yeah, but you’re fucking me instead. Sounds like a win to me.” You grinned and he laughed at your sudden audacity. He knew he liked you.
“You really are a whore, Aren’t you?” He teased as his tongue slipped out of your cunt and into your ass instead, watching the way your breasts bounced as you flinched and moaned at the sudden intrusion.
“Not a whore if it’s for my life.” You whined, digging your nails into his shoulders. You were starting to feel light headed from the pleasure pooling in your stomach, your cunt clenching around nothing, pissed off from the loss.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He chuckled as his face fell to the crook of your neck, taking in your intoxicating smell. He could feel his dicks twitch with need as he kissed you there, fighting every instinct in his body to keep from digging his teeth into the thin skin. He tasted your sweet slick as it dripped from your cunt and onto the middle of his tongue, and finally he withdrew the muscle.
You whined as he did, head dropping to his chest, both holes now clenching around nothing. “No, fuck-” You whimpered, only for him curl a clawed finger under your chin and lift your head to face him. “Sukuna..” You whimpered as you looked into his fire red eyes, darkened by lust. His lips crashed into yours, capturing you in a heated kiss. You sighed against his mouth, hands rising to tangle into his soft pink hair as his tongue tangled with yours.
You screamed into his mouth as you felt him shove both of his cocks into you at once, one for each hole. He growled, biting down on your lip as you clenched around him. “Sukuna!” You gasped as you pulled back from the kiss, your body trying hard to push out the sudden intrusion.
“Relax for me Darling,” He groaned softly, the pet name slipping out without his permission. He pressed his forehead to yours as he rubbed your stomach, trying to ease your pain.
“I-I can’t. Too big..” You panted, trying desperately to release the tension in your shoulders. The stretch was searing you from the inside out. You felt overwhelmed, the pleasure in the pain feeling like static shocks. “It’s soo much..”
“You can handle it,” He assured you, extremely (perhaps overly) confident in your ability considering you had met less than an hour ago. You shook your head, tears slipping from your eyes. He lapped them up from your face, then captured your lips in a much softer kiss this time. Slowly, your body came to accept his, the tension melting away as his tongue tangled with yours and he eased his way further into you. The burn faded, leaving just the pleasure there, pulsating through you as he pushed deeper.
He groaned into your lips as he bottomed out into you, stilling both to give you time to adjust and so he didn’t immediately cum in you like a fucking virgin. It was almost embarrassing how good you felt around him, taking him better than any other being had before. You clenched and fluttered around him in a sinful way, bringing him closer to his climax than he would like to admit.
“Told you.” He smirked as he pulled away from the kiss, licking at the string of saliva that connected the two of you. You whined as you looked down to where the two of you were connected, watching a bulge in your stomach appear and disappear with every thrust of his hips. It should have hurt, but no- quite the opposite.
Every thrust of his hips electrified you with pleasure, sending wave after wave of intoxicating bliss through your nervous system. You had never felt so full before, so complete. You could feel his cocks rub against each other, against your walls inside of you, a dizzying sensation that you had never experienced before. Your hips bucked against him greedily as he fucked you, chasing your high.
“Look at me Y/n,” He demanded, pulling your head up so your eyes connected with his again, “I want you know the demon making you feel so good.”
“Ryomen-” You whined, forgetting in your sea of lust that wasn’t the name he told you to use. His eyes widened a bit from shock. Mostly because he wasn’t filled with rage by your insolence, but instead a surge of lust from hearing his name fall from your lips. It really had been awhile, he was feeling himself getting attached far too easily. If he knew what was good for him, he would have finished and disposed of you as quickly as possible. He wasn’t interested in what was good for him.
“Say it again.” He demanded, a hand slipping in between you to rub circles into your clit.
“Ryomen..” You whined, staring at him with fucked out, lust clouded eyes as you trembled in his arms, thighs clenching around his abdomen as the ecstasy crashed through your core and through out your body. You felt your muscles ripple and tense in anticipation.
“Again,” He growled, pulling you closer to him, and dropping his forehead down to yours. “Who does this cunt belong to?”
“Ryomen..” Your brain was too clouded to make out the rest of his command, your body buzzing and bliss building up inside of you. He picked up his pace, chasing his own high and making you scream out his name in a truly embarrassing and needy moan.
You clung onto his shoulders and neck, digging your nails into the soft skin there as the euphoria in your veins finally boiled over and hit the fire inside of your stomach, igniting it in an explosion of ecstasy and lust. Your vision exploded with stars and your brain officially clocked out of work as you melted into a puddle. Your legs shaking around him as you leaned against his strong body, unable to keep yourself up any longer.
Your velvety walls quivered around him and sucked him in impossibly deeper, needy and lustful for him. It drove him mad. He watched as your face scrunched in pleasure, your body reacting to him greedily as you melted into the pleasure he he was gracing you with.
It send him over the edge watching you cum for him, feeling you cum over him, feeling you gush around him. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, holding you in a grip tight enough to bruise. His fangs buried themselves into your neck, marking you as his and his alone as he came deep inside of you, the warm strings gushing in you and filling you to the point of spilling over.
He held you close to him, head hung back as you both tried to catch your breath. Your mind was starting to clear the fog out, looking up to ask him to put you down before you felt him move inside you again. Your breath hitched as you realized he didn’t even get a little soft. You looked at him with almost horrified eyes as he bucked into you, only acting to encourage him. He looked back at you with lustful and wicked eyes, nipping at your lip as he set his pace and grinned.
“Whats wrong Darling?” He asked, the pet name now fully intentional in its use, “You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?”
🎃🎃🎃
You were warm when you woke up, despite still being in the nude. Probably because of the huge body pressed against yours, radiating heat and holding you close as he slept. Visions of last night ran though your head, making you almost painfully aware of the cum still dripping from between your thighs, and sending another wave of arousal through you. When did you pass out? When did Ryomen?
You stayed still for a few seconds, listing to your bedfellows steady breathing. The bed, despite being made from feathers and thin quilting, was surprisingly soft, and the late afternoon sun filled the old home with a warm hazy light. You realized you couldn’t stay here any longer. You couldn’t get attached to an urban legend.
You slipped out of his arms, freezing as he groaned and only breathing again once he was softly snoring. You sighed as you slipped out of the bedroom and found your clothes again. You quickly got dressed, and went to open the front door. It didn’t budge. Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you pulled the knob again. What the hell? You pulled with all your might, almost screaming with frustration as the door didn’t even move a centimeter.
“Don’t bother with that Dove.” You gasped as you heard Ryomens voice behind you, a wave of dread blanketing you as you spun to face him. He was leaning casually against the door frame of the bedroom, a content smile painted on his face. “It has my seal on it. I’m the only one that can open that door.”
synopsis: sukuna chooses the path of love (the optional happy ending HAHA)
part of the man before the king of curses series
contains: sfw, romance, the deserved fluff we needed, modern!Sukuna, reincarnation, kinda out of character, Uraume is your child btw, modern au
word count: 3.5k
The night air was chilly on the streets, quiet under a full moon as a pair of figures walked through the city, their arms full of groceries after leaving the nearest grocery store to their home. An affectionate, bickering couple who strolled down the streets, walking longer than necessary despite one’s current disdain of this particular evening. One was cursing and shivering in a long coat that still wasn’t enough to keep the shivers down, a hand woven with a tall man whose only warm layer was a large thick hoodie, naturally warm like he was built for the cold nights though he was still heated especially after his day working in construction.
“I knew we should’ve taken a taxi, it’s too cold out here plus you just got back from work,” you chided, adjusting your grip of grocery bags on the other hand while you held his hand tight. Still childishly grumbling at him for refusing your suggestion.
“I don’t mind the walk.” Sukuna replied softly, snatching your bags, “I like this, plus it does us good to be on our own for once without having Uraume with us.”
"Yeah, but Uraume is waiting for us and they haven't eaten dinner yet," you pouted, siding closer next to Sukuna as you wondered about the warm meals you could whip up for Uraume and Sukuna. Pondering to the sky if it was a night for quick stir fries, a hearty sweet katsu curry, hot soups or broths to melt the harsh coldness of the winter, while Sukuna rolled his eyes mockingly with a small smile tugging his lips. Your body pressed closer against his side like a touch of sunlight that warmed the air even on the coldest winters. To this very present, he still felt as though you were the truest blessing in his life, his granted grace that was beyond than the tied knots you both made.
"You're too soft," he jeered, "You spoil them."
Your lips thinned and deepened at his accusation. "There's a difference between spoiling someone and showing them you care," you replied, voice slightly muffled as you rubbed your chilled nose against his shoulder. “I care about our kid.”
"Spoiling is spoiling," he pointed out as he raised a brow, eyeing you with quiet amusement.
"You've been bringing Uraume every single meal, every day as if they can't get their own."
You lifted your head, looking at him indignantly, "Ume is still young, they're only eighteen."
"Ume is more grown than you give them credit for."
You huffed, but there was a spark of laughter in your eyes when you looked away stubbornly. "Ume is still my baby."
"And you're babying them, they'll get complacent if you don't stop." he said bluntly, lifting your cold hand to huff his hot breath, pressing your cold hand to his cheek.
You lifted your chin defiantly, "You know you're one to talk. You're as fond of them as I am, that’s your kid that you chose to take in."
You were as stubborn as you were gentle, loving and patient above all. Even when you both were young and freshly married, he came to you with a child by his side one day during the coldest winter, an unfamiliar child or bearing no absolute resemblance to him. A child that probably was around eight years old, who didn’t know their place in the world.
It was absurd initially. When you both barely had savings and struggled to get by as a young couple living in a small apartment with a broken heater, yet you welcomed the child with safe loving arms that protected them from the harsh reality. Sukuna took them in, you insisted that they should stay, and they grew to become part of your family. It was unexplainable but your intuition knew it was meant to be.
Sukuna rolled his eyes at that, knowing there was no use arguing as he placed the interlocked hands to the front pocket of his hoodie.
"Fond of them doesn't mean I cater to every need," he replied dryly. "I'm teaching them responsibility and it’s time for Uraume to do so."
You smirked up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. "By making them run errands for you, they’ve become your servant."
"It builds character."
"It builds resentment."
"They're not going to suffer just because they have to do errands and chores," he countered, he was beginning to feel that you were playing favourites at this point. He glanced at you, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not like you’re any better either, they're your personal assistant, you make them braid your hair every morning."
You gasped, eyes widening in mock offense. Arguing back justifications to your husband that Uraume simply enjoyed pampering you as Sukuna asserted his claim that you indeed enjoyed having a ‘servant’. All of that escalated into the laughter that echoed in the space, sharing the flashbacks of Uraume when they started a new school and how they had separation anxiety on the first until the third day, finding every excuse to go home while dreading school. Then, you were bickering about how he unnecessarily threatened a child, a parent and a teacher because that child was picking on Uraume, albeit it was you who laid hands on that child’s mother for her audacity to yell at Uraume’s self defence.
There was no other person you would want to share your life with other than Sukuna. Though you were against all odds that stacked beneath your favour, you survived raising a Uraume because Sukuna was your anchor. He built your home, supported you, honoured you and held you to the highest regard.
As the flakes of snow started sprinkling in the air as the couple watched the night blue sky as they strolled back to their suburban home. Their hands intertwined tightly, afraid that the world would end if they separated. It was a moment of silence in the air, a pure moment of joy along with love for the man beside you and the family you built with him. Your mind lingered a secret and you were ready to break it.
"Uraume will always be my first baby, even when there will be another baby coming too," you softly spoke to him.
And he halted.
A chill, a small shiver that tingled his nerves.
Facing him, nervous as you held your stomach, fully trusting the love and connection you had since you first met him to this present. "Sukuna… I'm pregnant."
The world seemed to stop as the words reached his ears, like he'd lost his grip on time itself. Sukuna froze, the bags of groceries forgotten in his hands as he stared at you, the thud spoke loudly but softly. All of his attention laid onto you; your breaths, your hopeful smile, your dazzling eyes and the silence of what you presented him.
Pregnant, meaning a new life formed within your own body. His and yours, a creation made by the very blessing that came into his life. The word echoed like a dream—distant and surreal. He couldn’t tell why but he felt as though he had waited a lifetime for a moment like this.
His legend as the King of Curses remained after centuries that remembered his name, his warfare against powerful clans, and his terror as the only sole being that gave the world a reckoning. Living and breathing in the modern times that still trembled in fear of his name had almost brought pleasure.
Only that he had to live in the human body, a vessel that became a constant reminder to him as the man he never was by his society, living in the kindness surrounded by it. There was an emptiness underneath it all.
Surrounded by the fires and rubble of Shibuya, as much joy it had brought him to crack the mental capacity of Itadori Yuji, watching it unfold was merely a simulation to Ryomen Sukuna. A loneliness that came from being the strongest sorcerer in history.
Within the realm of souls, infinite darkness and isolation where one may endure, one would be fortunate to find souls. One would be fortuitous to have a companion by their side in the vast space, Sukuna did not dare to let the small child leave his side too. Softness was never foreign between Sukuna and Uraume, where Uraume learnt to control their abilities that kept the ground unfrozen by Sukuna’s side, where Sukuna shared tales and guidance before his reign on the land. The child stuck by with their master, reflecting on their life with Ryomen Sukuna, recalling words or moments that truly represented his vulnerable moments.
“I once loved someone and I can tell you, love distracts you.”
Uraume listened carefully to their master, sitting on their knees after they watched him down his bottle of wine and stuffing down his feast. A rare occasion that Sukuna would request stewed rabbits and fermented vegetables rather than the large bowl of rice and flash frozen human flesh, not that Uraume would defy their master’s orders or question him. They’ve learnt to follow him along, obeyed his commands, and remained loyal to him by his side up until their current age. Sukuna’s youngest servant knew better to stay silent.
After tasting the last drop of berry wine, Sukuna stared at the dish presented to him, lamented briefly before he finally touched the stewed dish, grabbing the animal’s leg and chewing its tender meat off the bone. After a few bites, Uraume paid closer attention to their master, awaiting for his critic after noticing how he was evaluating its taste, following a bite of fermented cabbage.
A moment of silence.
“Rabbit meat tastes terrible, I don’t want it anymore. Go eat it, or throw it away, I don’t care. I would like to be alone.” He flickered his hand wearily.
“Of course master, I’ll take it away.” Uraume bowed, left the room before capturing a glimpse of their master playing with the rabbit’s bone, expressionless but deeply observing it.
Uraume never questioned or dared to point it out, leaving the room with nerve provoking thoughts of their cooking abilities. Uraume cooked the meal as per requested as their master intended, never straying from Sukuna’s demands nor did it ever taste out of the ordinary. They tasted the meat itself, grew partially annoyed afterwards from realising that their master wasted their energy and time. All those days of foraging peculiar herbs and hunting wild rabbits, only to be devoured ungratefully in only a couple of minutes by their master, at least Uraume had the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of their labour, begrudgingly.
That moment reflected to Uraume as he stared at their master, walking north in spite of not knowing where the destination was. Who Sukuna was in this abyss revealed to Uraume as the person he always was underneath:
A broken being.
Perhaps, he indeed needed to take a different path. It could be that wandering directionless in the darkness would lead Sukuna where he needed to be, a forgotten perspective that Itadori Yuji reminded Sukuna where he could be. Choosing the path of love.
A faint light appeared in the distance to the east—a single flicker at first, like a star that had fallen to earth. It grew, spreading in every direction like a ripple across the dark. It was warm, comforting, with a certain river breeze.
Uraume sensed it, the sudden shift in the stagnant realm, perplexed at what they were facing.
On the other hand, Sukuna simply stood there, eyes locked on the widening light as he melted into a man who had waited his entire existence.
The familiar breeze of the forest that carried the flowing sound of the river, the same blossomed tree that he knew from centuries ago glowing on the same path, and you wearing the same traditional white wedding kimono standing underneath it as you gazed above the cherry blossoms. You stood under that same tree, bathed in soft light, untouched by time or flame.
Uraume was skeptical, they didn’t recognise the figure but their master was stunned, his shoulders softened and relaxed for the longest time they have remembered.
“Sukuna-sama?” Uraume asked. They heard your voice and they understood what it all meant to him.
“Sukuna,” you called, the same sweet voice he remembered it to be, cheerful even after cruelty struck on you. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
He couldn’t move. Not because he was afraid but because, for the first time in centuries—he felt his heart beat and shattered. The fire that consumed you haunted every memory of you, your face blurred with the blazing flames in every recollection he had. Not being able to recognise the person you were underneath the fire broke him.
This was not a memory.
Not a dream.
This was you, wearing the same white kimono that promised your union, devoted to him even after you left him on earth. Your smile was as affectionate as it had been from the day he proposed to you by this very riverbank, and remained in the same place where he burnt you.
Sukuna took his steps forward then stopped, fists clenching at his sides as if to keep himself from breaking completely.
"You are a fool for waiting." His voice was raw, cracked from centuries of silence and scorn. "After what I let happen? After I failed to protect you?"
You stepped towards him slowly, no fear and only love, a sensation that grew too foreign for centuries.
"I waited for us." You whispered gently.
The fire that had taken everything, the fire he surrounded himself in his heart, all the rage and wrath whistled as the Ryomen Sukuna dropped to his knees. Not as defeat, but his surrender to hope, to grace, to you.
He finally saw you, all the shared moments were no longer blurred, remembering you and not what used to be the idea of you. Under the ancient weeping willow tree, in a place between life and death, two hands finally reached for each other once more, neither letting go.
“I waited until you could find me and choose me, I want to love you again in our next life and forever more, ” you kneeling down to embrace him. You, the person who held all of the love and humanity from Sukuna Ryomen, the man before the King of Curses. Your heart was overwhelmed, too surreal in this reunion as tears were seeping in happiness, after all this time that you were waiting in the dark for your lover to just look in your way, “Will you love once more?”
The moment you touched him, something ancient and broken within Sukuna stirred. The quiet, human part of him that had died on the day you were burned in the temple, left it with you when you became one with the earth; his heart resurfaced by your arms around him. Your embrace was stable, real, unforgiving in their gentleness.
And for once, he didn’t fight it. He leaned into you in his unsteady breath, hands trembling as they slowly rose to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer after being drowned by his truth.
"Of course, you would have," he murmured again, voice rough with disbelief. "You are an idiot."
A soft laugh escaped yours against his shoulder. He closed his eyes, glistening after the centuries of rage, loneliness, his ruling through blood and flame—all collapsed beneath the weight of this one real truth:
You still loved him.
Even after everything, waiting in the abyss, you still chose him. In spite of not being able to cling onto your existence, you returned to him unconditionally because he was your love. Knowing where his fate would lie in the afterlife, you would rather wait in the darkness for his reciprocation, or be dragged into the deepest pits of hell; anything if it meant to be reborned with Ryomen Sukuna.
So when he finally lifted his head, red eyes glistening under spirit-light, he didn’t speak with curses, pride or fire. He spoke as a man who had finally come home.
"Again," he whispered fiercely, thumb brushing away your tears before pressing their foreheads together. "We go again into the next life."
"And this time…" He continued, his voice dropped low, not like thunder now but the vow that etched into eternity. "I will love you, I will choose you first above all."
Where time meant nothing for souls that knew no end, a cursed king made a new promise:
To spend every life hereafter, not in destruction but in devotion to you, only you.
Love hadn't weakened him, it was what brought him back to the time where his heart could beat once more. You, the pure human being who reached out to him and extended it even to the child as cold as frost. With love that was soft and resolute, mending every scar into souls, welcoming with warmth spreading from that single touch crawling into frozen veins – where they didn’t feel like an echo of darkness, but felt a sense of belonging.
Wherever all of them would go, whether to atone the sins or reincarnate in the next life, love will follow them for it remains to outlive all.
His hand slowly lifted, hovering just above your stomach as if he was afraid to touch.
"You're pregnant…" His voice was a broken whisper, eyes wide with disbelief. "... You're serious?”
You nodded, voice shaking when you confessed, whipping your phone out to show a photo of the recent pregnancy test. "I can take another test.”
His fingers trembled as he looked at the photo, heart pounding so hard he was sure it would burst. He was going to be a father. The realization sent a wave of emotion coursing through him like wildfire—fear, love, joy, excitement, wonder—all mixing together until he could barely think straight.
A thousand thoughts and a thousand doubts but before any of those fears could claim the moment, Sukuna wrapped his arms around you. Tightly, gratefully, tenderly, afraid that this was a dream yet your touch proved that this was meant to be real. He had vivid dreams for this, yearning for when you could conceive at the right time, when you believed you were ready.
"'Kuna, you've gotten too soft with me," you giggled and sniffled, reciprocating the suffocating bear hug with your arms pulling him tighter. He buried his face in your neck, breathing the scent of floral and home lingering in your skin. You didn’t want to say aloud, you felt his small waterworks on your shoulder.
"You made me soft, idiot." He murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Don't blame me for what you created."
You laughed again as it transitioned to softer sobs, the sound like wind chimes in a rainy spring. Your fingers dug on his skin as you both held each other closer, uncaring of the cold night and groceries that slipped out on the concrete. This overwhelming happiness, not just that you were bearing his child, but that he was worthy of one. This life, this love, this quiet happiness under falling snow, the soon heartbeat in your stomach, was something he could protect.
So when he finally pulled back, eyes glistening with something unspoken, he pressed his forehead to yours and whispered:
"... Thank you."
"Why are you thanking me?" you murmured, resting a hand over his heart—feeling the steady beat beneath your fingers. There was something different about Sukuna tonight, like a piece of him that he'd always kept guarded, had finally let go. As if this present world would no longer be cruel to him anymore.
He gazed at you, that adoring smile with the dimples on his cheeks and his teasing held behind his tongue. It made your heart swell more than you thought possible. The way he always sees you that ingrained a print in your head, caressing your cheek as he planted his lips against yours, deepening his kiss that was laced with devotion; this was his answer to you.
When your lips unlocked, he gently grasped your wrist, thumb tracing small spirals over your pulse. "You're not afraid I'll mess this up?"
You met his gaze evenly, your own unwavering belief still stood strong. "What kind of question is that? Of course not, you're a good dad to Uraume, you'll be a good one to our child too."
The words felt like a balm to his soul, you saw a future in him that he could live up to. He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, the gesture so gentle to you, you wondered if you broke your husband too much.
"I'd protect you with everything," he whispered fiercely, "Everything, I swear it."
A smile tugged at your lips:
"I never doubted that."
You urged Sukuna to head back home so that you could share the news with Uraume. And he sneered at the idea of rushing back home just to cater to the fully capable teenager, especially when you literally just announced the biggest life-changing news. Nevertheless, he picked up the groceries, grabbed your hand, dragged you along briskly and complained about your timing while you bantered back at his sudden impatience. The night was quiet, only carrying the sounds of your footsteps with Sukuna as they carried a new weight in their present lives– a weight that carried a long-awaited reward of two reincarnated souls who loved and chose each other in every lifetime.
a/n: listening to televangelism by ethel cain was the main inspo of the reunion. ahh i love soft sukuna, this was on hold for a while since my job has been stressing me out. but after the angsts i've written, i think we should deserve a happy ending (hopefully a good one, i fear this fic isn't my best)
